


The Democratically Elected Leader and the Frog

by transoberyn



Series: The Democratically Elected Leader and the Frog [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I mean, M/M, except there are no princesses involved, if u squint, its basically a princess and the frog thing, so technically speaking, there are witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1472068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transoberyn/pseuds/transoberyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of just calling Grantaire impossible, Irma Boissy decided that she didn't want to see him ever again. So, she turned him into a frog. Shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Democratically Elected Leader and the Frog

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry guys, I'll get around to updating my other works soon. Ish. After I watch Winter Soldier about 3 more times. Let me know if you find any errors! I should probably get around to finding a beta at some point.

There was a splashing sound as something hit the surface of the pond.

 

“Goddamnit, Courfeyrac!” an irate voice emanated from behind the bushes from whence the object had come.

 

Grantaire looked up with interest as the bushes rustled, and froze when they parted to reveal the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. The man sighed heavily, running a hand through his curly blond hair.

 

“That was a fucking _family heirloom_ Courfeyrac!” he shouted behind him, scowling when there was a muffled reply.

 

“I thought you hated your parents!”

 

“Yeah, but this was a gift from my grandmother! She has a sixth sense when it comes to these things! She’s probably storming to my apartment right now to take vengeance for ‘one of the priceless heirlooms of the greatly respected family Enjolras.’”

 

The man, or “Enjolras,” crouched down beside the pond, frowning as he searched the murky waters for the lost item.

 

“Hey, do you need help with that?” Grantaire suddenly piped up, not wanting to see Enjolras’s perfect hair get dirty in his attempts to retrieve the item.

 

His head shot up, blue eyes wide.

 

“Who said that?”

 

“Me,” Grantaire replied, hopping a bit so he was in front of Enjolras.

 

“What the fuck?” Enjolras looked completely flabbergasted, squinting down at Grantaire.

 

“Yeah, weird, right? It took me a bit of getting used to as well, believe me. Seriously though, would you like me to go get that for you?” Grantaire tried to look as honest as was possible when you were very small and green.

 

“Um… Sure? I mean, would I have to pay you in some way?” Enjolras looked somewhat skeptical.

 

“Not really, but it sure would be nice of you,” Grantaire responded, internally praying, _please say yes please say yes please say yes_

 

“Well, it depends on what the payment is.”

 

“Well, you see, I wasn’t always a frog. I got turned into a frog because I insulted a pretty lady with my ugly face, and said pretty lady just happened to be a sorceress. But she told me, as soon as she was done transmuting me into a small amphibian, that the only way the curse could be broken was if someone more attractive than her kissed me. She said this, of course, believing that there was no such person, and therefore there was no way in hell I’d be able to actually free myself of the curse. But lo and behold, I have found someone more attractive than Irma Boissy! So, if you could bring yourself to grace the lips of this lowly creature with your own, I would be forever in your debt.”

 

Enjolras frowned.

 

“Combeferre!”

 

A bespectacled man came through the bushes the same way Enjolras had moments earlier.

 

“What is it?”

 

“No offense,” Enjolras said to Grantaire, drawing a confused look from Combeferre. “but are there any possible negative side-effects to kissing a frog?”

 

“What the fuck,” Combeferre replied. It wasn’t a question so much as a statement.

 

“You see, this… person here, he’s been turned into a frog, and says that the only way he’ll be able to turn back into a human again is if I kiss him. So, I wanted to make sure that there wasn’t any chance of me catching some kind of horrible disease from him or something, seeing as he hasn’t taken a proper bath in…?” Enjolras looked at Grantaire questioningly.

 

“Jesus, are all of your friends this hot? Either one of you could break the curse; christ! Oh, and don’t ask me; it’s not like I happened to have a frog-sized calendar when I was turned into a frog,” Grantaire said, shrugging as best as he could.

 

“Well, a while. So…?” Enjolras looked at Combeferre expectantly.

 

“This… This is _fascinating_! By what means were you turned into a frog?” Combeferre completely ignored Enjolras’s question, choosing instead to rifle madly through his bag and pull out a notebook and a pen.

 

“I told Enjo here the long version, but the short version is: I was at a bar, hit on a hot chick, was knocked out by said hot chick, and the next time I woke up I was at this pond with her standing over me telling me that the only way I would be able to become not a frog again was if I managed to get someone more attractive than her to kiss me,” Grantaire explained, watching in amusement as Combeferre scribbled furiously in his notebook.

 

“Would you be able to tell me the name of this ‘hot chick?’” Combeferre asked when he was done writing.

 

“Yup, she made sure to tell it to me about 50 billion times as she was explaining how an ugly dude like me shouldn’t even be able to look at her. Irma Boissy,” Grantaire replied.

 

Combeferre jotted it down in his notebook, then placed it back in his bag with the pen tucked into it.

 

“No, there would not be any side-effects as long as you wash your mouth off with clean water directly afterwards. And, I happen to have a water bottle with me, so today is your lucky day,” Combeferre said finally, smiling.

 

A muffled voice came over the bushes.

 

“Are you guys making out in there?”

 

“No, Courf, we’re not making out. Stay out there! This place is cramped enough as it is!” Enjolras yelled back, rolling his eyes fondly. “Okay, I’ll do it. What’s your name? I have a policy wherein I never kiss anyone if I don’t know their name first.”

 

“Grantaire,” he said, and promptly splashed into the pond. After about half a minute, he resurfaced, carrying a ridiculously intricate locket in his mouth. He spat it onto the ground. “This what you were looking for?”

 

“Yes! Thank you,” Enjolras said, picking it up gingerly and handing it to Combeferre. “So how should I got about doing this?”

 

“Picking me up _probably_ wouldn’t be the best idea. Maybe... crouch down, and I’ll stretch up as far as I can?” Grantaire suggested.

 

Enjolras shrugged, and bent down so he was at face level with Grantaire. He carefully moved forward and pressed his lips against Grantaire’s slimy green ones. He drew away quickly, grabbing the water bottle from Combeferre and rinsing off his mouth. Meanwhile, Combeferre was watching in horrified fascination and taking notes furiously in his notebook as Grantaire transformed back.

 

His limbs stretched and changed color, and hair sprouted from the top of his head. His torso elongated, his neck extended, and finally he was fully transformed.

 

Combeferre could certainly see why ‘Irma’ had found Grantaire ugly, but did not mind personally. Grantaire wasn’t skinny by any means; built like a boxer, with a square jaw, a large, crooked nose, and dark brown eyes with bags under them. He had a bit of a beer belly, that had probably been decreased significantly by his diet of strictly insects.

 

Grantaire looked at his hands in amazement, smiling disbelievingly.

 

“It worked!”

 

Enjolras looked down at where Grantaire was kneeling in the mud, realized that the transformation had not included clothing, and looked away, blushing furiously. Combeferre was rifling through his bag, eventually surfacing with a shout of triumph and some scrubs.

 

“It’s not much, but it’ll do. These are kind of loose on me, but they should fit you fine. You might have to roll up the pant legs,” Combeferre said, noting that Grantaire was much shorter than him as he stood up.

 

Grantaire grabbed the scrubs and hurriedly pulled them on, grimacing at the moth pattern on it.

 

“How the fuck did you get scrubs with moths on them?”

 

“Ugh, don’t fucking get him _started_ on that,” Enjolras said, looking back down from where he had been examining the sky.

 

“Well, they were on a website that didn’t look very trustworthy, but I decided to just… _wing it_ ,” Combeferre said, grinning.

 

“Oh my god,” Grantaire groaned, putting his head in his hands.

 

“Who are you talking to?” Courfeyrac shouted over the bush, getting sick of standing around doing nothing.

 

Enjolras sighed and walked back through the bush, motioning for Combeferre and Grantaire to follow him. When he caught sight of Enjolras coming back, Courfeyrac sighed dramatically.

 

“Finally! I thought you were going to take up residence back there! What took you so long, anyway? Did you get the locket back?”

 

Combeferre and Grantaire emerged before Enjolras could answer any of Courfeyrac’s questions.

 

“Did you and Combeferre find that guy back there and have sex with him? You kinky bastards,” Courfeyrac said, wiggling his eyebrows salaciously.

 

“No, Courf, we didn’t have sex with him,” Combeferre said, smiling fondly.

 

“Well, it was the obvious conclusion to come to, seeing as he’s all ruffled looking and wearing some of your scrubs,” Courfeyrac replied, craning his neck to see Grantaire from where he was hiding behind Combeferre.

 

“He got turned into a frog, and I turned him back into a person,” Enjolras said distractedly, having missed several texts while turning anthropomorphic frogs back into people.

 

“Okay!” Courfeyrac said, and went back to trying to get a good look at Grantaire.

 

“So… What are we going to do now?” Combeferre asked, looking at Enjolras questioningly.

 

“Well, for one thing,” Grantaire interjected. “what’s today’s date?”

 

“April 15, 2014,” Enjolras replied.

 

“Oh man, Eponine’s going to kill me,” Grantaire groaned, burying his face in his hands.

 

“Eponine?” Enjolras asked, internally praying _please don’t have a girlfriend please don’t have a girlfriend please don’t have a girlfriend_

 

“My best friend,” Grantaire explained, and Enjolras internally breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s probably out of her mind with worry by now. See, I kind of got turned into a frog on April 12th?”

 

“Well that’s not so bad,” Courfeyrac said.

 

“April 12th, 2013,” Grantaire specified, shaking his head in despair. “Do any of you have a phone I could borrow?”

 

“Yeah, here’s mine,” Enjolras said, pulling up the keypad and handing it to him. Grantaire dialled quickly, and held the phone up to his ear. Someone answered the phone after the third time it rang.

 

“Hello?” came a weary voice.

 

“Ep?” Grantaire asked, sounding hopeful.

 

“R?!” All the tiredness quickly drained out of Eponine’s voice, quickly replaced with fury. “Where in the everloving fuck have you _been_?! Do you know how _worried_ I was?! Jehan cried xemself to sleep every night for _half a year_ , R!”

 

“I’m sorry!” Grantaire interjected, looking like he was going to cry himself. “It’s a really long story, and one you’re probably not going to believe unless I tell you in person. Could you come pick me up at…?”

 

Enjolras muttered the name of the road and the nearest intersection in his ear, and Grantaire relayed the information to Eponine.

 

“Could you bring some of my clothes too? These moth-print scrubs aren’t really doing it for me. No offense,” he added to Combeferre.

 

“Do I wanna know?” Eponine sang. “Do you want your paint covered t shirt, or your other paint covered t shirt?”

 

“The other one,” Grantaire replied, grinning.

 

“Oky doky, I’m going to go down and drive to you in your car, which I may or may not have stolen because you weren’t using it,” Eponine said, not sounding apologetic at all. “See you in a bit!”

 

“Okay,” Grantaire said, and hung up. “Thanks.”

 

Grantaire handed the phone back to Enjolras, and stood around awkwardly for a bit, before turning around and beginning to trudge down the road to the intersection where Eponine was going to pick him up.

 

“Wait!” Enjolras and Combeferre yelled, almost in unison. They glanced at each other, nodding.

 

“Let me give you my phone number, so you can get my scrubs back to me,” Combeferre said, ripping out a piece of paper from his notebook and jotting down his number on it.

 

“And we have Eponine’s number, so don’t you dare even think about not calling us,” Enjolras added, smiling in a way that made Grantaire almost hope that giving Combeferre’s scrubs back wasn’t the only reason they wanted him to call them.

 

Grantaire took the piece of paper from Combeferre with a shy smile, hesitating slightly before pecking him on the cheek and Enjolras on the nose. He saluted Courfeyrac, and sauntered off down the road, whistling something that sounded suspiciously like I Can Go the Distance from Hercules.

 

Enjolras and Combeferre looked at each other.

 

“We’re not going to wait for him to call us, are we?”

  
“No, no we’re not.”


End file.
